to the
children in equal shares. While she was doing this, Jean le Rouge
would set a stool for me in front of the fire and would seat himself on
a log of wood, which he would roll to the fireplace with his foot. His
wife put some twigs on the fire with a pair of heavy pincers, and as we
sat and talked we watched the big yellow potatoes cooking in the pot
which hung from a hook in the fireplace.

On the very first Sunday Jean le Rouge had told me that he, too, was a
foundling. And little by little he had told me that when he was twelve
he had been put to work with a woodcutter who used to live in the house
on the hill. He had very soon learned how to climb up the trees to
fasten a rope to the top branches so as to pull them over. When the
day's work was done and he had his faggot of wood on his back, he would
go on ahead so as to get to the house first. And there he used to find
the woodcutter's little daughter cooking the soup for supper. She was
of the same age as he was, and they had become the best of friends at
once.

Then, one Christmas Eve, came the misfortune. The old woodcutter, who
thought that the children were fast asleep, went off to midnight mass.
But directly he had gone they got up. They wanted to prepare midnight
supper for the old man's return, and they danced with glee at the
surprise they were getting ready for him. While the little girl was
cooking the chestnuts and putting the pot of honey and the jug of cider
on the table, Jean le Rouge heaped great logs on to the fire. Time
went on, the chestnuts were cooked, and the woodcutter had not yet come
home. It seemed a long time. The children sat down on the floor in
front of the fire to keep themselves warm, leaned up against one
another, and fell asleep. Jean woke up at the little girl's screams.
He could not understand at first why she was throwing her arms about
and shrieking at the fire. He jumped to his feet to run away from her,
and then he saw that she was ablaze. She had opened the door to the
garden, and as she ran out she lit the trees up. Then Jean had caught
hold of her and thrown her into the little well. The water had put the
flames out, but when Jean tried to pull her out of the well he found
her so heavy that he thought she must be dead. She made no movement,
and it took him a long time to get her out. At last, when he did get
her out, he had to drag her along like a bundle of sticks back to the
house.

The logs had become great red embers. Only the biggest one, which was
wet, went on smoking and crackling. The little girl's face was all
bloated, and was black with violet veins in it. Her body, which was
half naked, was covered with big red burns.

She was ill for many months, and when at last they thought she was
cured, they found out that she had become dumb. She could hear
perfectly well, she could even laugh like everybody else, but it was
quite impossible for her to speak a single word.

While Jean le Rouge was telling me these things his wife used to look
at him and move her eyes as if she were reading a book. Her face still
bore deep burn marks, but one soon got accustomed to it, and remembered
nothing of her face but the mouth with its white teeth, and her eyes,
which were never still. She used to call her children with a long, low
cry, and they came running up, and always understood all the signs she
made to them. I was so sorry that they had to leave the house on the
hill. They were the last friends I had left, and I thought of telling
Madame Alphonse about them, hoping that she might get her husband to
keep them on. I found an opportunity one day, when M. Tirande and his
son had come into the linen-room talking about the changes they were
going to make at the farm. M. Alphonse said he didn't want any cattle.
He spoke of buying machinery, cutting down the pine trees and clearing
the hillside. The stables would do for sheds for the machines,